TRANSLATION OF POEM BY AFANASY FET: "Чуя внушенный другими ответ" ("Portents")

Afanasy Fet

(1820-1892)

Чуя внушенный другими ответ…

Чуя внушенный другими ответ,
Тихий в глазах прочитал я запрет,
Но мне понятней еще говорит
Этот правдивый румянец ланит,

Этот цветов обмирающих зов,
Этот теней набегающий кров,
Этот предательский шепот ручья,
Этот рассыпчатый клич соловья.

30 января 1890

Translator’s Note

(U.R. Bowie)

Sending this poem to the poet Polonsky, along with a letter on Jan. 31, 1890, Fet wrote as follows: “In one of his letters to me Tolstoy said it so well, ‘You can’t talk a stone into falling upward instead of down, in the direction gravity pulls it.’ But lately, not understanding Schopenhauer well, and primarily in his ‘Kreutzer Sonata’ [Tolstoy’s vehement polemic with human sexuality], Tolstoy tries to talk a stone into flying against the laws of gravity . . . . . . Although I never write on any specific themes, it seems to me that my latest poem, composed yesterday, could actually be on my part an objection to Tolstoy’s protest and hostility toward the mutual attraction of the sexes in his ‘Kreutzer Sonata.’”

In further correspondence with Polonsky, Fet mentions that the setting of the poem is an evening at the end of May. At one point Polonsky seems to be advocating for a happy ending: “You feel like finishing the thing off with an exclamation: ‘Everything is saying to me: I am yours and you are mine.’”

LITERAL TRANSLATION

(by U.R. Bowie)

Sensing an answer prompted by others,

I read in your eyes a silent interdiction,

But still more comprehensibly speaks to me

That truthful blush of the cheeks,

That call of the languishing flowers,

That rushing-in shelter of shadows,

That treacherous whisper of the brook,

That tremolo cry of the nightingale.

RHYMED AND METERED TRANSLATION BY ALEKSANDR POKIDOV

Suspecting not yours, but a prompted reply,

A silent forbiddance I’ve read in your eye,

But still! O how more understandably speaks

This genuine and elegant blush of the cheeks.

This call of the flowers that sweetly pervades,

This languid approach of the vespertine shades,

This treacherous prattle of the brook at our feet,

This song of the warbler in some green retreat.

RHYMED AND METERED TRANSLATION BY U.R. BOWIE

Portents

Sensing that loved ones have told you, “Say no,”

I read in your eyes what your answer bespeaks,

But even more lucid are signals that show

On the telltale opulent blush of your cheeks,

In the plaint of the flowers that languish and wilt,

In the solace of shade that has rushed in to help,

In the treacherous whispers of brooks spilling guilt,  

In the tremolo-trill of the nightingale’s yelp.  

FINAL VARIANT

(Combination of Pokidov and Bowie)

Here I (Bowie) have struggled with the usual problems that a translator has, when trying to maintain meter and rhyme in a translation. The imperative to rhyme, especially, sometimes makes for awkwardness and emendations that are superfluous.

Pokidov’s variant has its strong and weak points. His line, “The languid approach of the vespertine shades” is a near perfect embodiment of the lyricism of Fet, his poetry of the landed estate, with its nineteenth century Romantic effects. In Pokidov’s third line the meter breaks down completely: “But still! O how more understandably speaks.” A very weak line. In the first line of the second stanza, Pokidov stretches the usage of one word, “pervades,” in that he needs a rhyme for the next line’s “shades.” The word “pervades” is a transitive verb; it must be used with an object: pervades what? In his last line he makes Fet’s nightingale into a warbler. In my opinion, you simply cannot sacrifice the nightingale, so evocative in its Romantic overtones, and so frequent a guest in Fet’s lyric poetry set on the Russian manor, the country estate in spring and summer.

As for my own variant. Several of the lines are strong: “On the telltale opulent blush of your cheeks;” “In  the plaint of the flowers that languish and wilt;” “In the solace of shade that has rushed in to help.” Fet is big on pathetic fallacy, the lending of human emotions to inanimate objects and nature. In this poem certain aspects of nature seem to be on the poet’s side, as he awaits the verdict of his lover: the flowers that languish, the shade that rushes in to help. The brook, however, is inimical, “treacherous.” But then, the word “guilt” in the line about the brook is a stretch, an excrescence, stuck in there mostly because we need a rhyme with “wilt.” As for the nightingale, in Fet’s original this token bird of romance seems to be neutral, trilling away with no concern for the plight of the poet. If you stick in the jarring word “yelp,” you imply that the bird is in cahoots with the brook: inimical. Then again, nightingales don’t really yelp.

So here is my attempt to reconcile the best in Pokidov with the best in Bowie:

Portents

Suspecting not yours, but a prompted reply,

A silent rejection I read in your eye,

But even more lucidly, truthfully speaks

That telltale opulent blush of your cheeks,

That plaint of the flowers pervaded with anguish,

That vespertine cool of the shadows that languish,

That treacherous whisper and prattle of brook,

That tremolo-trill from the nightingale’s nook.

                                                                     May, 2018

                                         Isaac Levitan, "Moonlit Night. Village." 1888